


it takes a red headed woman to get that dirty job done

by janie_tangerine



Series: and who but you would take me in [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Breathplay, Collars, Corsetry, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jon Snow knows something, Kneeling, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He swallows. “Maybe - maybe I want to try it out.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>One of her eyebrows rises for a split second, but then her eyes are focused on his even more than before. “Maybe?”</i></p><p> </p><p> <i>“I - I thought into it, I might have looked into it, I don’t even know how it’d be, but - I think - I don’t think I’d hate it. I guess. I don’t know, I wouldn’t have a clue where to begin -”</i></p><p> <i>“That’s not your problem,” she says. “Are you sure?”</i></p><p> <i>He shrugs. “Well, I’m sure that from your perspective it’d just be weird. I mean, ordering people around and the likes. The other side - well, I can see the point. In theory. I’m not sure I can put it into words, but -”</i></p><p> <i>“You don’t need that. And if you want to try it out I can start you on something easy. If you hate it we don’t talk about it again, if you don’t we see. How about that?”</i></p><p> <i>He doesn’t tell her that what convinces him to say yes is that she sounded very much eager to try it out with him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	it takes a red headed woman to get that dirty job done

**Author's Note:**

> So, while I was taking prompts on tumblr, someone asks for _Sub!Jon for Dom!Ygritte bruh Like he is unsure at first (because like shouldn't he be the dom???) but she introduces him to the world of BDSM and also bc we agree about corsets you know what to do -finger guns- (and like I'd imagine collars and light bondage are involved at some point)_. Now since I kinda had wanted to go there with those two for a while and never quite manage I might have jumped on the chance, but since the prompt lent itself to it and a few people wanted the jon/ygritte prequel to that 40k throbb bdsm fanfic which you'll find as the next one in the series I figured I could just hit two birds with one stone and go for it. Don't worry you don't need to read the throbb fic since this is supposed to be the prequel anyway.
> 
> Other than that: the tags should be pretty explicit so like, expect porn and not much plot. No, nothing belongs to me (lol if they did I don't think I could have ever killed poor Ygritte in canon honest), and yes, the title is from Bruce Springsteen's _Red Headed Woman_ which is the j/y porn song as far as I'm concerned. (Yes I might have been wanted to use that song for j/y porn for ages, don't judge me.). The series title is from Leonard Cohen aand I'll leave it here now bye enjoy the porn hopefully. :'D

The first time Jon meets Ygritte, it’s at Gilly’s birthday party - Gilly introduces her as a former high school classmate of hers who lived out of the country for a while and has been back for a few months, so that’s why they had never seen her around around up until now.

When she walks up to Jon, takes a good look at him and tells him that Gilly wasn’t really lying about how his hair looked better than all of her female friends's put together, he _knows_  he blushes so hard his cheeks must look a color close to Ygritte's flaming red hair, but - listen, Jon’s always had a thing for straightforward.

“Well,” he says, hoping it doesn’t come out making him look like an idiot, “If you want it just like mine I’m not above telling you what brand my conditioner is.”

She laughs, but it’s not _at_  him. Actually, when she looks back at him, she’s smiling and it’s - listen, as stated, Jon likes straightforward people, and he likes them when they’re not patronizing, and nothing about Ygritte says patronizing.

Never mind that that red hair is downright gorgeous, and he likes how her eyes are sparkling with interest as she moves closer.

“Most people I approach like that mutter something and then leave,” she says, slowly.

“I’m not _most people_ ,” he answers, shrugging.

“I can see that, Jon Snow,” she replies. “Care to join me for a few drinks?”

He says yes.

They talk. She’s actually fairly nice to talk to, even if you have to keep up with her, but it’s fine - he likes her. She’s easy to be around, she doesn’t actually mention his hair anymore which is a bloody relief - he likes to take care of it but he hates it when people assume that’s _all_  he cares about. He tells her that he had tried to get into the police and failed at the eyesight requirements, when she asks him  _how_  he shrugs and says he’s wearing contacts, and now he’s helping out his father with running the family-owned bookshop while he figures out what he wants to do with his life.

“Well, at least you aren’t lazing around,” she says approvingly.

“And what do _you_  do in life?” He asks.

She smiles. “I own a bar,” she says, no more, no less.”

For a moment Jon asks her how did she manage so young, then remembers that Gilly’s actually _older_  than both he and Sam - if Ygritte’s the same age as Gilly, she’s twenty-five, not _twenty-one_. She could probably manage owning a bar.

“Nice. I hope it’s going well.”

“Oh, it is,” she agrees. “I definitely get by. So, Jon Snow,” she keeps on, “care for another drink?”

She winks at him, and fuck but his throat is dry as he tells her that  _yes_ , he cares for another one.

–-

It sounds like a bad cliché. But Gilly’s house is small, she only has a guest room and Jon’s not the kind of person who’ll be caught having sex with an almost stranger in your best friend’s girlfriend’s guest room, which is how it ends with the two of them excusing themselves, opening the back door of Jon’s car - it was parked in the back of the condo, locking the doors from the inside and tearing off their clothes in the backseat.

Good thing he had condoms with.

It’s cramped, and probably not the place one would imagine for their first time with someone they plan on seeing again, but Ygritte doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, and so what if he might have to work for it in order to find a good position to give her head - she was  _delighted_  after.

By the time they’re done, they’re trying to share the backseat while not falling down on the car’s floor, her cheeks are flushed and her hair needs a brush or ten, and she’s looking at him approvingly.

“Just looking at you, one wouldn’t think you’d be the kind to go for  _this_.”

He shrugs - he knows people assume a lot of things just by _looking_  at him. “And what if I am that kind of person?”

She smiles. “Then, Jon Snow, I’ll be very disappointed if I don’t have your number by the time this party is over.”

She’s not disappointed by the time the party is over.

–-

They’ve seen each other for two months when he asks her why is it that they never had a date at her _bar_. Is that because she doesn’t like to mix work and private life?

She gives him a pensive look.

Then. “Well, I’m not sure it’s your kind of bar,” she says, obviously weighing the words.

“What? Why wouldn’t it be, if it’s a _bar_?”

“It’s a _peculiar_  bar,” Ygritte replies. “But I’m fifty-fifty on whether you’d like it.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” he can’t help saying. She smiles again.

“Fine. Then tomorrow I can show you. _Then_  we’ll see if you’d like it.”

At this point he’s legitimately curious about it.

–

The next day, he _understands_  as soon as he walks inside - _The Wall_ , from the outside, does look like a regular joint.

When you walk in, though -

Given that you have a list of rules attached to a second door just after the first one, and that when you read them it’s obvious what people come here for, Jon understands what she had meant with _I’m not sure it’s your kind of bar_.

Admittedly, Jon doesn’t know much about _this kind_  of bar except for the few things he might have gathered from newspapers or a few movies. He doesn’t think there’s something wrong with it on principle, he just - never really paid the thought much attention, if at all.

And now he’s standing in between the entrance and the outer door, and he doesn’t know what the hell is waiting for him inside, but -

Well, fuck that, at worst he decides he doesn’t like it. He walks inside and looks around, and -

“Were you expecting orgies?”

“Fuck,” he gasps as he looks at Ygritte, who just materialized next to him. “I didn’t hear you!”

“I had been waiting. So, is that disappointing?”

“Uh, well, I guess I didn’t expect people just - sitting around and drinking, but I figured orgies as the first thing you saw coming in wouldn’t be your style.”

“Hm. Good point,” she agrees. “Well, it’s not. And since you haven’t bolted already, maybe I owe you at least a cocktail on the house.”

Jon accepts it and can’t help overhearing some of the conversation - yeah. Most people are definitely looking for _partners_. The couple next to him is _discussing eventual safewords_.

He’s sure his head is about to start spinning and he’s glad when Ygritte hands him a screwdriver - he thinks he needs a drink if only to distract himself.

“Are you uncomfortable?” She asks, and for once she sounds dead serious.

“Uh, no,” he replies, truthfully. “Just, I hadn’t thought _that_  would be your business and I don’t really know anything about it, but - I’m not. Really. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Hm. Sounds reasonable. Well, if you want to ask questions you _can_ , you know. I can see you want to.”

Jon actually _does_  have questions.

He downs half of the screwdriver first, though. “Uh,” he mutters, and obviously asks the one that he should have kept for last, “do you just run this or do you actually, you know, _partake_?”

She laughs and leans back against the counter. “I _partake_ , but not when I’m seeing someone.”

Oh, _well_  -

“And don’t even start feeling guilty because if I’m seeing you I’m not... partaking. I’m an adult, it’s _sex_  and I don’t need to _partake_  to get off.”

He lets out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding.

Then he asks more.

–-

By the time she’s done, he thinks that he more or less gets it, in theory. Surely it’s a lot more complicated than it looks on Law and Order.

He’s not entirely sure he gets the most important stuff, though.

“So - I mean, people _like_  being ordered around?”

She snorts. “It’s not quite as straightforward as that. I mean, obviously they do, but I’m told it’s not about _that_. I’m mostly told it’s about knowing that the other person wants to give you what you need or want and not always needing to be in control all the damned time. Or maybe you just like getting tied up. It varies.”

“Wait, _you’re told_?”

She snorts. “I’m on the other side of the fence,” she smirks, and _oh_. Well. It only makes sense, now that she mentions it. “And it’s not that I like ordering people around. I like it when _they_  like it. And sure, there’s a part where you do get off on people putting you in charge, but it’s different for everyone, too.”

Jon takes that in. “I might need to think about it,” he replies truthfully.

“Well, that just means you’re not an idiot. Anyone who knows nothing about it would need to think about it. That said, if it’s not for you it doesn’t mean I’d ditch you.” She winks, and he knows he blushes crimson under his beard. “Really. I like _people_. If their taste in sex isn’t mine but we’re otherwise compatible, patience. Just take that into account.”

“Right. Sounds legit - _what_?”

“ _Jon_?”

The moment Jon sees _his brother_  sit down next to him, he almost gets a heart attack.

“Uh - _yes_? Robb, the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, he’s your brother?” Ygritte asks, sounding amused.

“Wait, _she’_ s your infamous new girlfriend?” Robb asks, sounding halfway as if he’s about to erupt in hysterical laughter.

“Yes?” Jon replies, at a complete loss.

Ygritte just laughs harder. “Well, I have to check a few things in my office,” she says, “guess I’ll leave the two of you to _discuss it_.”

–-

“Well, that’s - I mean, I didn’t know -”

“Robb, I’ve seen her for two months, I found out what kind of joint she runs today and I’m still not sure I understand fully the point, you  _couldn’t_  know because I had no clue. And how about _you_?”

Robb shrugs. “Well, I can’t exactly tell _everyone_  that I’m into this kinda thing during Sunday lunch now, can I?”

… Good point, Jon figures. “And I mean, I - I didn’t really think you’d be interested in my sex life. All things considered.”

Jon downs his drink at once. “Fuck, _no_. But - I mean, how long?”

Robb shrugs. “A few years. I found out that I was into it in uni, but it’s not like you can ask people if they’re into getting tied up when casually dating them. Your girlfriend over there was a blessing, honest.”

“A blessing.”

“She runs this well - you can’t do anything downstairs, you meet people who are interested in what you’re offering, she has clear boundaries, checks up with people to see that you’re not being a jerk and the likes. And it’s a lot better meeting people in the flesh than arranging it online.”

At this point, he figures that he should just go and ask Robb since it’s a lot less awkward than asking Ygritte, somehow.

“Okay, so, uh, you like getting tied up or tying people up?”

Robb snorts. “Tying them up, thank you. You want to know what I get out of it?”

“ _Yes_ , please.”

“Well, there’s quite nothing like seeing that someone is happy and gets what they want or need because _you_  made that happen.”

… which is such a _Robb_  answer, Jon should have imagined that.

“And what do the _others_  get out of it?”

“You should ask some of them, not me,” Robb shrugs. “I’ve been with people who had high demanding jobs and needed to not be in charge of things, I’ve been with people who like doing what others ask of them and being praised for it, I’ve been with others who just liked being tied up, I’ve been with people who get off on trusting someone else that much. It’s different for everyone. Sometimes it’s not even about sex at all.”

“Fine,” Jon sighs, “sounds reasonable. Wait, no sex?”

“For some people, no. But really, I don’t know if you’re thinking that you might have to try it out because _Ygritte_  is into it…”

“Hey -”

“But I think I can safely speak for the both of us when I say that us being into it, doesn’t mean our partners _have_  to be. If I liked someone and they didn’t care for the lifestyle I’d just avoid it. It’s quite all right. If you expect someone else to be into it just because you are, then you’re better off not doing this at all.”

That sounds more or less reasonable, and honestly, it makes him feel slightly better. He lets Robb go to find himself a date, that’s obviously what he’s here for anyway and he shouldn’t keep him, and figures Ygritte won’t complain if he goes up to her office.

She doesn’t, not that he had doubted it.

–

Fact is.

He _thinks_  about it.

If anything, there isn’t anything wrong in doing that, he figures. Thing is, when he does, he considers _Robb’_ s point of view first, if only because he knows someone who has a clue of how it works from that side. And - while he can more or less wrap his head around the idea of _Robb_  getting off on people trusting him to have a good time, because that’s exactly Robb’s thing, and he’s been like that since the moment Jon came to live with his family when he was six and has never not once thought of him as his _cousin_ , he’s not sure he sees the appeal. Ordering someone around seems just - he doesn’t see the point. Why would he feel any sort of gratification in it?

(He thinks for a moment about his grandfather and shudders before pointedly deciding _not_  to. He never thinks about him or how horrid it was to live with the man, and if the agreement they managed to break with him included that he couldn’t have the Stark surname even if he was one under any other sense of the word, well, good riddance.)

Honestly, the more he thinks about it, the weirder it seems.

But when he considers the other option -

When he does -

So maybe, _maybe_ , he has to admit to himself, he always thrived on positive attention. Maybe it was because he spent the first six years of his life with a certified insane old man who only ever hated him because his eye or hair color was wrong and wouldn’t take notice of him otherwise, maybe it was because at the beginning he was hoping his uncle’s family wouldn’t hate him, he doesn’t know, but he’s been called a pushover in school enough times, for one. Not that he ever cared. There was always something gratifying in being told he had done well or that he impressed the people he cared to impress, never mind that since he received the news about his too-poor-for-the-force eyesight he’s been feeling - not _badly_ , he had figured it might happen, but that was about everything he always had in mind to be, and these days he’s feeling like he should figure his shit out as soon as possible and that he can’t lounge around Winterfell’s checking books out forever. Well, he could, but everyone knows he’s just doing it so that he has something to occupy his time with.

And gods, but the prospect of Ygritte _maybe_  getting off on doing that kind of things to _him_  -

Jon swallows, gets over himself and goes online. If he can’t ask people, surely there’ll be someone on the other side who might clear his doubts.

–-

“I thought about it,” he tells Ygritte the next time they see each other.

“Hmm, and what conclusions did you draw?” She sounds perfectly neutral, as if it won’t change anything what answer he gives her.

He swallows. “Maybe - maybe I want to try it out.”

One of her eyebrows rises for a split second, but then her eyes are focused on his even more than before. “ _Maybe_?”

“I - I thought into it, I might have looked into it, I don’t even know how it’d be, but - I think - I don’t think I’d hate it. I guess. I don’t know, I wouldn’t have a clue where to begin -”

“That’s not your problem,” she says. “Are you sure?”

He shrugs. “Well, I’m sure that from _your_  perspective it’d just be weird. I mean, ordering people around and the likes. The other side - well, I can see the point. In theory. I’m not sure I can put it into words, but -”

“You don’t need that. And if you want to _try it out_  I can start you on something easy. If you hate it we don’t talk about it again, if you don’t we see. How about that?”

He doesn’t tell her that what convinces him to say yes is that she sounded _very much_  eager to try it out _with him_.

–-

First, she hands him a checklist.

He looks at the list of activities he’s supposed to rate and his head almost starts spinning.

“Fuck,” he says, “I don’t even know what half of this stuff _is_ ,” he admits, shrugging.

She snorts. “Don’t worry, we all went through that stage. Just ignore it if you don’t know. And this isn’t set in stone, if you change your mind about something six months from now, given that you liked it, you can do that.”

“Right. Sounds reasonable.”

He fills it for how much he can. God, he’s pretty sure that he’s never gone past a girl giving him oral in his entire life, what is even up with _rimming_? Still, he finishes and hands it over to Ygritte - she looks at it, hums as she nods along and reads it.

“Well, well, we can definitely work with this,” she says. “I imagine you know that I’ll need safewords.”

“Uh, yes, but - what do you go for, usually?”

“The stoplight. Green for go ahead, yellow for we need to discuss this, red for stop right now. The likes. Does that work for you?”

“It does,” he replies truthfully. Sounds easier than any other option.

“Fine. Stoplight it is. Is there anything I should know that I can’t deduce from this?”

“I - I honestly wouldn’t know?”

“All right. At worst you can stop me.”

Sounds like a plan. She looks at him, then smirks. “I’ll need you to tell me.”

“Oh. Right. Yes. Sounds good.” Good thing they’re in her bedroom already, he thinks. “And, uh, do I need to call you something or -”

“Did you read that online?”

“… Maybe. I don’t know, seems like everyone does -”

“Jon, I can’t give two fucks about that. If you want to I don’t mind, but I have no preferences whatsoever. I know if you mean what you say, anyway. No need to call me mistress to prove it.”

His throat might have gone dry at once. Maybe.

“So, I have a feeling you’d like things a bit rough, but _maybe_  it’s not the right way to start off.” She seems to think about it for a moment, then -

Then she moves towards the bed, kicks off her shoes and sits with her legs open, then grabs a pillow and puts it on the ground in the middle of them.

“I think,” she says, and her voice suddenly _changed_  - she sounds like someone who knows she’s in charge right now, and who’s not hearing otherwise. “I think you should get over here. But you should kneel first.”

He understands the prospect at once, and for a moment he feels a pang of shame in his stomach, but - 

But damn it if it doesn’t make him want to see how it feels if he actually does it. He kneels down on the ground.

“Only use your legs.”

Christ, he shouldn’t be slightly turned on by how _smooth_  she sounds, should he, and he breathes out before moving over until his knees are on the pillow and not on the ground. His hands are grabbing at each other behind his back - he figured he wouldn’t be tempted to use them.

“Nice,” Ygritte says. “Might be that you could be less tense, but _nice_.” He can feel his shoulders falling slightly even if he knows he’s really coiled very tight, but then her fingertips are brushing over the back of his head. “And we can work on that anyway,” she keeps on, and he doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s not Ygritte untying his hair and starting to run her fingers through it _very_  slowly. She occasionally scratches at the back of his neck, which feels _good_ , damn it, and then her fingers comb through it once, twice, thrice, and then he’s really not counting anymore. More than that, he’s waiting for her to do _something else_ , but then again - they said it wasn’t just about sex, was it?

At some point one of her hands cups the back of his head and he finds out that he really can’t stay that tense anymore, it’s starting to hurt, and he lets his shoulders sag and his legs as well, a tiny bit - Ygritte hums in approval and keeps on running her fingers through the hair at the side of his head first and just above the back later and she looks in absolutely no hurry to rush it.

“You can put those hands somewhere more comfortable,” she says, sounding slightly amused but not in a mean way - he does let them fall at his sides and then puts them around her ankles, not gripping, but just enough that he’s holding on to something. “Good. By the way, you don’t have to outperform anyone.”

 _How_  did she guess -

“Everyone’s different. Just let me worry about it.” She grabs at the back of his head for a moment before letting go and moving her hand to grab at a fistful of hair, and she does the same on the other side, and maybe he should be more worried at how she seems to have his head in a fairly strong grip, but -

He’s not.

Not really.

She spreads her legs a bit. “Given how that first time went,” she says, suddenly letting him go, “maybe we should try that again _now._ Wait there.”

He does - she moves back a bit, lifts up her dress - wait, she almost never wears dresses, does it mean that she might have _planned_  it? - and slips off her underwear, throwing it behind the bed.

She keeps the skirt raised. “You know what to do.”

Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?

It should be the same.

But it’s _not_ , because back then she had just let him do as he wanted and she had enjoyed it and at most had pulled at his hair a few times. But now her fingers go back to his head the moment he moves it under the skirt, and he knows he couldn’t move if she stopped him from doing it, and when he breathes in and out before running his tongue along the inside of her thigh and then moving forward, it’s just - before he just wanted to show her a good time but _now_  he wants her to be impressed, and he doesn’t know what it is that is going on in his head right now -

But he shudders slightly when his tongue finally runs along her clit and he realizes that she’s really wet.

And that she most probably at the prospect of doing it like _this_  with  _him_ , and - it’s almost enough to make him feel dizzy, so he doesn’t let himself think about it and just goes down on her the way he knows he’s good at. He’s always liked it anyway - he doesn’t understand why some guys think eating girls out is below them or anything - and _now_ , well, he’ll see to do his best, thank you very much. He doesn’t even know how long he goes at it - he can feel her trembling ever so slightly, and he wishes he could use his hands but she said nothing about it and so he doesn’t, and when she _pushes_  him forward he knows she must be enjoying it and it makes something warm bloom in his stomach, and -

How is it so _different_?

He decides to stop overthinking it and focuses on seeing if she can come from this, maybe she could, he certainly managed it other times, and when she suddenly freezes and _does_ , he doesn’t move an inch as her hand keeps on running through the hair at the back of his head. She’s murmuring something he can’t quite hear, not when he’s trapped in between her legs with her dress still over his head, but he feels elated and he knows he’s hard, but he has currently no need to take care of it.

For now.

For a moment nothing happens, but then she lets her hold loose enough to let him lean back, and the skirt is gone soon after - he breathes in as he looks up at her. She has flushed cheeks and her pupils are dark and she’s _smiling_  and damn but he should feel his dick stirring at the prospect that it was what she wanted.

“How are you feeling? Give me a color.” She sounds breathless.

“Green,” he replies, and that’s the truth for that matter.

She seems pensive for a moment, and then - then she grabs a few cushions from the bed and slips down from it, and she puts them behind his back before moving forward - now he’s lying on the ground with one of them behind his back and one behind his head, she has her thighs around his own and she’s looking down at him through hair falling all over her face.

“So,” she says, and she almost sounds _normal_ , how can she - “let’s say that now I let you fuck me because you more than earned it, but you try not to come before I say. How does that sound?”

He’s sure that his throat gets even drier at the prospect. “Green,” he rasps out.

She smirks and opens up his jeans before producing a condom from somewhere - maybe her dress’s pocket, he has no clue - and rolling it on him. And then -

Then her hands move to his wrists, pinning them to the ground, as she moves just above him and sinks down.

He moans out loud - she was still so wet he couldn’t even believe it for a moment - and she’s warm and the fact that in order to pin his wrists to the ground she has to be all over him is just -

“Green,” he blurts out when he sees she’s not moving.

She leans down and kisses him the moment her hips cant downwards.

He doesn’t know how he doesn’t let go at once because in between all of that it really was _too much_  at once, but - damn it, he _likes_  that she’s all over him and that she looks completely attentive to his reactions, the way she’s moving her hips and sliding up and down is making him dizzy, never mind that each few thrusts she just slams back down. Her mouth being on his more often than not when _he hasn’t cleaned up_  yet is just - fuck, he’s so close he could burst, but she said not to, and he really doesn’t want to get that wrong just at the end of it when he’s this close -

Suddenly, she grips at his wrists tighter and moves her mouth to the shell of his ear.

“Go ahead, I’m not that much of a sadist.”

It might be embarrassing that he lets go the moment she says it, as her mouth moves down to the corner of his own and kisses him all over again, but not like before. This is lighter in comparison, and the contrast is just - he doesn’t know if he’s ever had sex this intense in his life, but that’s really not likely, his head is a damn blank right now, and he kisses her back as he relaxes against the cushions, his eyes closing, and -

And he thinks he _maybe_  is understanding the appeal.

It wasn’t like usual sex, at all.

He opens his eyes as she slides off him and she lets his wrists go, and he feels like he can’t move at all - he could, but everything is dizzy and he’s about to protest for a moment when she moves up against him, puts an arm around his waist and reaches up with her free hand, running her fingers through his hair all over again.

“So,” she says, “feel free to answer when you’re back with us, but you can let me know whenever if you want to try it again.”

Thing is - even if he’s not exactly thinking straight now, he’s sure that he _might_  want to try it again.

Because if this was the _easy_  way in, he can’t even begin to imagine how it might be if they go farther.

–-

He tells her he _definitely_  wants to try it again.

For a couple of weeks, though, she doesn’t do anything more than she has up until now - she tells him that if she thinks she’s going to put handcuffs on him before six months he can forget it. Jon, who isn’t even sure he’d be into handcuffs, laughs and tells her that fine, it’s up to her, isn’t it?

“Maybe,” she replies, and for that matter he doesn’t even care that she’s deciding what he can handle or not. Hell, he barely even knows what he likes himself, for that matter.

Then, one evening, she shows up with a few ropes in her hands.

“Do you think you might want to try _these_?” She asks. “Up to you. If you say no, I have two alternative plans.”

Face is - _why not_?

At most, he can back out of it.

He shrugs and says he’s game.

After he takes off his shirt, she ties his wrists to her headboard tight enough that he’d have to ask to get out of them, not that he particularly minds - he stares at her fingers while they work out the knots, it’s obvious she’s done this a lot of times, and for a moment he thinks, _what is she even taking out of this_.

That probably showed.

“Earth to Jon Snow,” Ygritte says, her thighs going around his waist. “If something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“It’s nothing -” He starts, and then she sends him a _look_  that makes him want to cower. “Okay, okay, it’s just - you must have done that a lot.”

“As in, I tied a _lot_  of people up? I might have. So?”

“And, I haven’t - I mean, I just thought that I’m not bringing much to the table, am I?”

Ygritte just _looks_  at him again, and she shakes her head.

“You know nothing,” she huffs.

“What?”

“I think you missed a few things which you really shouldn’t have,” Ygritte says, leaning forward. First of all, _again_ , you don’t have to outperform anyone. People are different. Everyone is different, especially at _this_. It doesn’t matter if you’re a pro or if you just started out. You learn along the way, and no one is born knowing everything. Second, I don’t fuck people out of pity or anything of the kind. Third, this isn’t just about what _I_  need. Are _you_  getting what you want out of it?”

“Uh, yes, but -”

“But nothing then. One day you’ll get it. And now _please_  don’t move until I say,” she adds, smirking ever so slightly as she grinds against him with one long, slow motion.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s not thinking about anything other than the fact that she has her mouth around his dick and a couple of fingers up his ass, and _he can’t really move at all_  and he’d have never thought he’d like it this much, but damn it, _damn it_ , he does.

He doesn’t know how long later, he’s seeing stars as he shakes and grips at the headboard and saying her name over and over, and then everything is fuzzy but he can feel that she’s massaging his wrists after untying the knots, and somehow _that_  makes a warm feeling spread all over his chest - he’s not even thinking when he leans over and kisses her palm when she’s done, but she looks down at him with the face of someone who’s had the greatest time of her life.

He’s going to think about why he feels that relieved at that later.

A long time later.

–

They’ve been doing _this_  for a couple months when he realizes that he’s actually - feeling somewhat less stressed. Sure, he still would rather _not_  check books out while he figures out what to do with his life and not worry about all the job applications he sent over and that he never gets a reply for, and he still hates that he doesn’t have a general plan for what he should do with his life, but knowing that at least twice per week he can just lay back and let Ygritte take the reins is _really_  a relief. The fact that she seems to actually enjoy herself a lot even if he’s a complete newbie at isn’t hurting at all. He’s not sure of how to tell her that sometimes he could also not come at all and he’d be fine with seeing that _she_  has had a good time, but maybe he can hope she guesses - he’s really fairly terrible at verbalizing it, but what can he do.

Then she asks him to re-do the checklist, in case he changed his mind or looked things up or _whatever_.

He does. 

She reads it with a _lot_  of attention.

When, the next week, she shows up asking him if he’s up for something less vanilla than usual, he asks why not.

When she shows him a black fake leather corset she had hidden in her wardrobe, for a moment he thinks, _what_.

Then he considers it.

He _does_  like being restrained. He _did_  like it that one time she jerked him off while she had a hand around his throat. He doesn’t give much of a fuck about possibly wearing _that_  because it’s not - typical male attire. If he did, he probably wouldn’t like occasionally watching movies while she’s sitting on the sofa and his head is on her thigh while he’s kneeling on the ground.

“I could try it,” he says.

“Good,” Ygritte says approvingly. “Of course, if it doesn’t work out -”

“I know, I know, I don’t have to.”

“Then you can take off that shirt and come over here.”

He does.

It’s one that gets tied from the back, which on one side is a good thing because he’s not sure he could look at her in the eyes if she was tying it in front of him. She doesn’t go down easy on him for that matter - she ties it tight enough that it hurts a bit when he takes a breath and his chest moves forward, but it’s not enough to  _really_  hurt.

She hums in approval as she moves back and looks at him - he’s still wearing his jeans, but he kicked off his shoes earlier so that’s about all he’s wearing.

“Well then,” she says, kneeling up on the bed - her knees go around his hips, touching the corset, and her hands grab at his head, forcing him to look upwards. “That looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

“That’s - that’s _yours_?”

“Never used it. Not my thing. But might be yours,” she says, running a hand over his chest, her palm stopping just at the collar. “Too tight?”

He shakes his head.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Good.” She puts both hands on his arms, then moves one behind his back, grabbing at the laces. Suddenly, it’s even tighter. He breathes in sharply, and _fuck_  it hurts, but Ygritte’s other hand is grabbing at the back of his neck, without letting go, and she’s so _close_  and so focused on how he’s reacting, it’s _definitely_  not bad. Not at all.

“Color?”

“Uh, green,” he replies. It’s fine. He definitely can handle this.

“Good. Stay there.”

He doesn’t move as she leans back and gets rid of her jeans and shirt - she only keeps on her bra and underwear, and they’re both _red_ , wait, _did she wear a set_ , she never does?

“Sometimes I like wearing pretty things,” she says, as if she read his mind. “Even if I prefer looking at pretty things.”

She lies down on the bed after fluffing up the pillows.

“Turn over.” He does, enough to look at her.

“Get over here. Not walking around the bed.”

He tries to not think about that small burst of shame he always feels in his gut makes him strain against his jeans as he turns over on his stomach and crawls over the bed on his elbows - good thing it’s not that big.

She pushes off her underwear and lets it fall on the other side of the bed. Then she spreads her legs.

“Do I have to ask?” She says.

“No,” he replies as he moves in forward - he’s not surprised when her legs close around his waist the moment he bends his head downward. Her hands go back to his hair again and they _pull_  as he closes the distance between them and licks at her clit at once.

One of her hands tugs at the corset’s laces. He’s sure he’ll get dizzy from lack of air if she does it some more -

But she doesn’t, and she actually lets him breathe once in a while instead of keeping his head _there_ , and then she pulls harder as her hips snap forward, a bit, and he can’t help the moan leaving his throat. Fuck, he’s sure he’ll have marks of the damned corset on his skin for a week but it’s not a problem right now, is it. Who’s ever going to see? But thing is - he can feel how hard he is, and he doesn’t mind that his jeans are becoming constraining by now, and things,  _what if she upped it up a notch_  -

He leans back enough to talk.

“Can - can I ask -”

“I’m willing to hear it,” Ygritte cuts him.

“Harder,” he says.

“Hm. What exactly?”

“I don’t - I couldn’t say, but just - _more_  of that?”

“I think we can definitely work with that, if you ask this nicely,” she smirks, and then she’s pulling _more_  at the laces as she pushes his head downwards and he goes back to eating her out.

“Hands behind your back,” she says a moment later - he does, even if it makes things more complicated, but - but _yes_ , that was what he wanted, and he doesn’t know what it says about him that he feels a certain relief at being _this_  strung up. He doesn’t even mind the painful parts too much. He can hear Ygritte moaning out and saying  _yes keep on like this_  above him and - _yes_ , he thinks as he feels her clench and her thighs grip closer around his shoulders. He doesn’t move as she comes, not at all, he just takes small, shallow breaths, until she lets him go - slightly, enough that she can look at him in the eyes.

She’s _definitely_  satisfied with him. For now, at least. She moves a hand over his mouth, wiping off his lips - it comes away sticky and he doesn’t know what possesses him to lick her fingers, but she doesn’t tell him to stop.

Then -

“Up here. Back against my chest. No need to keep your hands there.”

He swallows and does, and first she ties the corset tighter, _good_ , and then she drags him backwards - he feels the corset’s laces collide with her chest and then one of her hands goes up to his neck.

“Color?”

“ _Green_ ,” he replies without even thinking about it. She moves his head downward so that it’s on the hollow between her shoulder and her neck, and then she opens up his jeans with her free hand.

“If you need to stop, tug on my arm. _Got it_?”

“Yes,” he breathes.

She closes a hand around his cock and the other around his throat.

If he could have, he would have howled. Most probably. But he can’t, because she’s keeping his throat in enough of a grip that he can barely breathe, which is what he was hoping for so no protest there, and at the same time she’s jerking him off in quick, efficient strokes and -

“You’re taking it _perfectly_ ,” she says, her mouth next to his ear. “If only you could see the entire picture.”

She jerks him off a bit slower at that. “Too bad. But I assure you, it’s a very, very pretty sight.”

He wouldn’t know about that, but if she thinks so -

“You can come whenever you like,” she keeps on. “And after you do, I think I want to see if you can make _me_  come again. How about it?”

He nods ever so slightly, he couldn’t do more -

And she starts going faster, _again_.

She tightens her grip a fraction when he goes rigid just before letting go.

He doesn’t think he’s ever come that hard in his life, he thinks as white explodes in front of his eyes.

Later, she makes the corset’s laces a bit looser as she keeps a hand around his waist - later, she moves on top of him and tells him to use his hands.

He does, eventually, make her come twice. And another time. He couldn’t do it again himself, he’s too exhausted, but it’s fine, he doesn’t _need_  it, and when she unlaces the strings - but doesn’t take the corset off him - and lies down behind him and brings him back up, his back against her chest and her hands not leaving his hips, he thinks that _now_  he understands the whole point.

–-

Or maybe, he thinks later, that was when he understood most of it.

–-

When Ygritte tells him that if he really hates working with his father one of the bartenders has just resigned and maybe he could take his place for a while, she pays benefits and she doesn’t think it would make things awkward, Jon says yes - it sounds a _hell_  of a lot better than his current prospects.

He’s about come to terms with the fact that he _does_  like it at least moderately painful, and Ygritte has just smirked and told him he had the right face for it, when he sees two people who are obviously in a steady thing walk in and order drinks.

Not that he and Ygritte aren’t in a steady thing, it’s been almost a year, and he honestly can’t stop himself from grinning if he thinks about it.

Anyway, one of the two guys has this thin leather band around his neck, and Jon has been around here and has done this enough to know what that means, and for a moment he thinks, _what if_  -

What if.

He swallows, considering the mental picture that just came to mind. 

He considers it as he pours drink for the entire evening.

–

He brings it up with Ygritte. She hears him out.

“Well,” she answers, her hand going to the back of his head, “I think dark red leather would look _really_  great on you, unless you hate that color. But I only do that while scening.”

“That’s fine,” he replies, “I don’t think I’d like it outside - that. Dark red doesn’t sound bad.”

“You don’t sound too convinced.”

“Maybe I was thinking - not _dark_  red.”

He can see the moment she understand what he means.

“Wasn’t that just the sweetest thing,” she says a moment later, and drags him down for a kiss before he can try and save his dignity.

But fine. Maybe he doesn’t need it.

–

One day, he thinks, one day he’ll be free of the obligatory yearly visit for his _grandfather’_ s birthday. Sadly, it was part of the agreement and even if the man is even older and even nastier, he still has enough money and lawyers to ruin his life, should he choose to do so, and it’s not really worth it to piss him off. He comes back from two fairly painful days that are halfway boring as hell and half just straight horrid - the only person he more or less gets along with whose surname is Targaryen is his aunt and she wasn’t even here this year, good for her. Everyone else hates him and it’s reciprocated, and he had to sleep there for at least one night since it’s too far from London to actually go and come back on the same day.

He doesn’t head for his flat when he drives back - he goes at the _Wall_ , Ygritte’s probably upstairs.

“Huh,” she says, “you know you had the entire day off.”

“I’m not here to work, unless you’re busy,” he replies, throwing his bag in the corner.

“I imagine it wasn’t any fun.”

“Since when? Come on, it was two days of people looking at me wrong and saying it was a pity my father couldn’t pick a nice sensible girl with pale hair when he decided to have children, and that was the best case scenario.”

“That side of your family has no taste at all,” Ygritte says, standing up. “So I guess that if you aren’t here to work -”

“Again, if you’re busy -”

“Jon, I think it should be obvious by now that _for you_  I’m not. I don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone longer than six months, stop second-guessing yourself every other moment. Never mind that I would really be an idiot if I thought what you’re about to ask me could be a hindrance.”

“So - can you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Jon Snow, one day I’ll make sure you _ask_  for things, but ‘course I can.”

She opens one of her desk drawers and takes out a thin leather band the exact same color of her hair, then shrugs and tells him to go next to the sofa she has in the corner. She plugs off her laptop and brings it over - right, she probably has to work.

She sits down and when she has plugged it in again and moved it so that it’s resting on one of her thighs, she raises an eyebrow at him, smirking. He smirks back and kicks off his shoes before kneeling down, his knees hitting the pillow she put on the ground before. He looks up at her, baring up his neck as she fastens the collar around it, and she makes it tight enough that he feels it at any given moment but not so much that he can’t breathe.

It should maybe worry him how he just - tends to relax at once and how everything that’s not _her_  gets fuzzy in a matter of minutes the moment he has the thing around his neck, but it feels _nice_ , and when her hand she isn’t using for typing goes at the side of his head and starts carding through his hair, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall on her thigh, and maybe he tries to match his breathing to her motions. He’s mentally ready for her to worry about work for a while, actually, so that’s why he’s maybe slightly surprised when he hears her shut the laptop off not that long later.

“I can finish that later,” she says, and good thing she knows that he’s really shit at talking when he’s like _this_. “I have a feeling I can spend my time a lot better.”

“I don’t mind,” he slurs, hoping it was halfway understandable.

“Nice of you, but it’s really nothing that can’t wait.” One of her hands goes to the side of his face as she spreads her legs wider so he can just sit down in the middle and let his head fall against the inside of her thigh.

“Thanks,” he blurts, and then closes a hand around her ankle.

“Look at how lucky I got, he’s even _polite_ ,” she laughs as she starts carding through his hair with both hands.

He smiles in spite of how _tired_  he feels and how miserable he was until ten minutes ago.

He’s halfway sure _she’_ s not the lucky one out of the two of them, but this isn’t the moment in which he disagrees with her. That can wait. He breathes out in relief, thinks that maybe tomorrow he might actually have a sign of it on his neck, and decides that he’s entirely all right with it.

Moments like this, are when he knows that _now_  he understood most of it.

 

End.


End file.
